Consent
by longdistance
Summary: He only asks that one sliver of his soul stays clean. He's not convinced he's succeeded when they return him to her.
1. Memories

Hi guys, this will be a very short 3 part fic. As always, I own nothing and these characters are not mine. Before reading on, please read the disclaimer below.

 **DISCLAIMER:** Parts of this idea have been bouncing around in my head for a while but it kept evading me on how best to execute. I want to start by saying that while this has an M rating, it is not for violence and **NO NON-CON**. I may allude to violence to unnamed characters but you will not find anything untoward for our main characters. The idea is to explore the concept of consent within a difficult, fictional situation. So while I don't think anything here should upset anyone, I want everyone who chooses to read to understand that this touching on what could be sensitive for some people. I'm trying to give this the respect it deserves and I really don't like reading stories where romantic relationships involve non-con. Just doesn't make sense to me so you won't find that here. Regardless, this warning may seem unnecessary but I'm not taking any chances.

* * *

 **Memories**

"Please state your name."

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes as she sat primly in the uncomfortable chair. However, she kept her expression neutral as she made eye contact with Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Hermione Granger."

He nodded calmly, no hint of their familiarity from the Order even though the entire Wizengamot knew.

"Relation to the accused?"

"Spouse."

"And what evidence do you provide on his behalf, Ms. Granger?"

"My memories," she stated simply.

Hermione could see him from the corner of her eyes. Kneeling in those hideous Azkaban rags while Harry stood at his side calmly holding the chain that led to the shackles around his wrists. He was filthy, she noted as he knelt with his shoulders slumped and head bowed.

Disgusting. She'd have to have a word with Harry after this was over about the state in which he'd arrived. She knew Azkaban wasn't under his jurisdiction as an auror, especially a relatively new one still, but she also knew his word meant something. As did hers. He'd bring up the idea and she'd drive it home.

The Wizengamot all nodded in interest after she'd claimed her memories as evidence. Rumors had swirled for the last eight months since she'd been recovered from the Death Eaters of what she'd endured, some nastier than others. How she'd been rescued with little more than a few scratches and being slightly underweight was something that had puzzled the magical community but she refused to speak with the Prophet, refused to speak with anyone unless it was to help his case.

"Very well," Kingsley answered. "Auror Smith, if you'll please extract Ms. Granger's memories."

Hermione sat calmly and waited as the woman in question approached her. She fought the urge to flinch when the tip of her wand settled gently at her temple. The strange sensation of having a flush of water through her ears nearly startled her but she remained calm as ever.

The auror approached a large pensieve and deposited the large sum.

Harry and Ron had asked her all too many times if she was certain about this but she saw no other way. He was marked. If she didn't offer the truth in a way that couldn't be misconstrued or argued with then she had no chance.

Kingsley and four others stepped down from their seats and gathered in a circle around the pensieve before leaning in and becoming encompassed in her memories.

Hermione closed her eyes then and felt those dark days wash over her in a heated array as she joined them in her mind.

 _She'd been left behind. Not intentionally but she'd not been able to grab onto Dobby and lost her footing as her already weak legs gave out on her._

 _Crumpled on the floor again, she feared the worst._

 _It had been him to drag her into the dungeon below Malfoy Manor. It had been him who'd chained her gently to the floor by both wrists._

 _He never met her eyes and she felt the shaking in his hands as he did so, wondering vaguely what all he'd seen in the last year._

 _She lost track of time and how long she'd been down there. Not long enough to starve apparently. She was much weaker than before even. Some wizard she didn't recognize pulled her from the dark cell, no care for how the light seared her eyes when they reemerged. He threw her carelessly to the floor and she felt dozens of eyes on her then._

 _Hermione held her breath as she lifted her head weakly and felt her heart hammer as the eyes of so many Death Eaters bore holes into her._

 _"Ah, Miss Granger," a dark voice spoke. His voice spilled across the room like oily paint on a canvas, dripping and causing her to shiver._

 _She swallowed against her dry throat and struggled to her knees when she saw him._ _ **Him.**_ _Voldemort himself sat at the end of the long table. He looked even more like an inhuman snake than she could have ever imagined and it made her feel sick._

 _"Lovely of you to join us," he smiled, and yet it was no smile at all. "I've plans for you. Plans for many of those like you. You see our numbers," he paused thoughtfully, "they could use fresh blood. Any blood really. And I've decided to bestow you on young Draco. He's disappointed me recently when he didn't manage to identify your friend, Mr. Potter, until it was too late. Therefore, he'll be one of the first to participate in my little project."_

 _He stood from the table then and glided slowly around those seated. He stopped precariously behind Draco's chair and placed a long, cruel hand on his shoulder._

 _"Your father fears nothing more than a mudblood, does he, Draco? What about his son marrying one?"_

 _Hermione watched through watery eyes as Draco swallowed, his head bowed slightly. Next to him, his father's jaw clinched but the man remained silent. His mother sat on the other side, no words for her son though she looked pale and sick at the thought._

 _"I have a good friend," Voldemort continued more brightly, "a friend from the Ministry actually. He's agreed to handle the binding for us. But you'll not be alone. Others who have failed me as well shall have their own prize soon. Some just as lucky as you, Draco. Their very own mudblood to fuck and impregnate. Some even luckier as I'll match them with more appropriate wives."_

 _He turned then, his dark eyes glittering with hate as he eyed the three Malfoys. "Let this be your punishment. Yet a halfblood isn't as bad as a mudblood. We can dispose of them once they've served their purpose."_

In the present, Hermione inhaled deeply as she emerged from her own memory. It was likely one of the worst she could stomach to recall. It was too painful to recall the way he'd looked at her as she'd been made to stand in front of him, reciting empty vows that neither wanted as they were bound together as husband and wife.

He'd been horrified and she'd felt sick. They expected her to give him an heir and then they'd kill her.

 _Draco jerked on her arm as he pulled her from the Malfoy's ballroom. She stumbled behind him as he turned left then right and left and right again and again until she lost her way. He stopped in front of an ornate door, details she couldn't truly take in yet before he opened the door and shoved her inside._

 _"Sit," he barked and pointed a stiff arm at his bed._

 _As soon as the binding had been done, they'd placed dull silver rings on their fingers, effectively completing the bond before Draco had been ordered to take her as he pleased._

 _Hermione had said not a word minus what was asked of her, her usual independent and bossy demeanor gone._

 _She managed to make it to the bed and balanced precariously on the edge, afraid to dirty his expensive bedding with her soiled clothes. Even she wouldn't have wanted someone in her state to touch her clean things._

 _He began to pace near the doorway, muttering to himself absently. She said not a word as she waited, silently praying he'd be gentle at least. That he wasn't the monster Harry had always believed him to be. Surely, there was at least an ounce of redeeming qualities within him._

 _A soft knock on the door stopped him and he quickly approached, pressing his ear to the door. He opened it finally and his mother slipped inside carefully._

 _"This is beyond unreasonable," she shook her head at him._

 _"There's no point in complaining, mother. What's done is done. Did you bring them?"_

 _Narcissa Malfoy turned and looked at Hermione for the first time then. Not even during the binding had she spared the young woman a look._

 _From within her robes, she pulled a small black bag, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. With a flick of her wand it enlarged and Draco snatched it quickly._

 _"Get her into the bath," he ordered with his back to them as he began unpacking the bag on his desk in the far corner of the room._

 _Hermione realized that she hadn't taken any time at all to examine what was clearly his bedroom. Her current mental state was beyond caring._

 _Narcissa approached her carefully and slowly touched her chin with surprisingly gentle fingertips. She lifted Hermione's head until their eyes met and her lips twisted._

 _She shook her head and appeared oddly sad before she lifted Hermione under her arms as she walked her into Draco's bathroom._

 _"There's no getting out of this now," she spoke gently as she flicked her wand at the taps of the grand bath. "Bathe yourself and then Draco will have you."_

Kingsley stood from the pensieve as did the four others and eyed her sadly.

Hermione sat calmly and waited as their pitying expressions all fell on her.

"He didn't hurt you," he confirmed.

"No," she agreed. "Draco was gentle with me. He wasn't even going to consummate the marriage but I knew if we didn't then Voldemort would know. He'd sift through our minds and he'd know. We had to at least the once. And I convinced him that I was right. That was later confirmed when another couple attempted to not consummate their marriage and he found out."

The five all nodded and took a deep breath before they dove back into her memories.

 _Hermione watched as he slipped back inside his room carefully, laying a hand against the wood as he closed the door, and muttering wards._

 _He approached her as she sat on his bed, one of his books in hand. After their more than uncomfortable first consummation, things were still rather awkward._

 _Hermione still hadn't managed to wrap her mind around the fact that he'd enjoyed her body. Told her as much in the heat of the moment. Not in disgusting insults or innuendos but oddly kind and encouraging words that were meant to relax her, to calm her._

 _She'd not climaxed, knew the chances were low as it was her first time and she was far too nervous, especially given the nature of the situation. However, he'd not run for the shower as soon as he'd finished. Instead, he lay beside her panting as an odd form of relief washed over her. The oddest thing was that after he'd caught his breath, he'd gone to his bathroom and returned in a pair of black pajama bottoms. He crossed to his desk for his wand and with a simple flick, cleaned her again. He'd then made her sit up in bed, not arguing when she covered herself with his sheets, and made her eat the food his mother had smuggled in for her. Not a word of explanation and she didn't ask about that kindness, merely accepted it for what it was._

 _Relief had settled as they'd managed the most difficult part. She could only hope she didn't actually become pregnant with his child after just the one time. Only time would tell now._

 _She couldn't call him friendly those first few weeks but he seemed to feel some odd need to protect her and she surely wasn't going to argue that at all._

 _He allowed her to read his books while he did whatever it was they made him do during the day. At night, he returned from supper, as she was not generally invited nor did she want to be. He snuck her extra food as they brought her the most disgusting and barest of portions otherwise._

 _Tonight he had more food and a book to offer as he sat on the edge of his bed in front of her. She'd traded one cell for another, but at least this one had pillows and a bath._

 _"You're too thin," he frowned as he eyed her._

 _He'd transfigured a few of his own clothes into something that would fit her._

 _Hermione stared at him for a moment as she chewed the bread he brought her. "Not at thin as you've told me the others are."_

 _Draco shook his head stubbornly, "When Potter sees you though…"_

 _He stopped, his mouth clamped shut then. It was clear they both had hope then._

 _A scream resonated through the halls outside of his room and Hermione cringed. They tortured some of the others. Or flat out forced themselves on them._

 _Draco drew his wand as he always did when they heard those screams. They kept her up at night as she slept by his side. He allowed her that._

 _When she started to shake in fear, he drew her close without even asking. He held her head to his chest, a flat palm over her ear as they both cringed at the sound of more screams._

 _"I can't save you all," he muttered weakly. "I just can't, Granger."_

 _"I know," she gritted her teeth as more screams continued. "Just don't let go."_

 _Draco nodded against her clean hair. He always made sure she was clean. He pressed his lips to her temple then, his first mistake. His first intimate gesture that showed his changing feelings for her._

 _As more of Voldemort's projects emerged, Draco began to huddle around her at night. He fit himself snugly at her back and tucked her close, both cringing whenever they heard the screams or the unmistakable sounds of sex._

 _On one of Voldemort's more charitable days, she was invited to eat at Draco's side._

 _She could feel their greedy eyes on her as she nibbled carefully on the bread with her meal, all too aware of Draco to her right and his mother to her left. Eating was a chore under such scrutiny but his mother kept discreetly adding more potatoes to her plate._

 _"How is it I never hear you two," Greyback accused suddenly, breaking the chattering and dark laughter around them._

 _Draco lifted an arrogant brow as he lifted his head and set his fork down carefully. "Pardon?"_

 _"I never hear you fucking your little mudblood. All the others scream so sweetly. Why not yours? Can't get it up for her, boy?"_

 _Draco sneered at the werewolf seated across from them. "Maybe I like her quiet," he lied. "The screaming throws off my own concentration."_

 _Hermione kept her eyes on her plate, knowing full and well not to argue or even speak. It was survival._

 _"Grow up, boy," the werewolf snarled, "and take her like a fucking man. She only has the one use anyway."_

 _Lying in bed next to him that night, Hermione tried to forget the lascivious looks she'd received and the words they'd said about her, in front of her. Draco had played his part—called her disgusting and tried to blame their lack of activity on his lack of attraction, his lack of interest in her blood._

 _She stared at the ceiling as he lay next to her, his hands resting on his stomach as he, too, stared at the charmed ceiling. He'd made it look like the night sky when she'd admitted a liking for the stars after he found her reading one of his astronomy books._

 _"They're going to know you were lying if we don't," she finally spoke quietly._

 _Draco groaned softly. "I'm not going to force you. I'm not that kind of monster."_

 _She nodded to herself. No, he truly wasn't a monster. She questioned whether he believed the things that the others did. Whether he truly earned that mark on his arm. From what she could discern, he'd been coerced, forced even. Maybe he didn't like muggles but he wasn't the killing, torturing type. He didn't have the stomach for it._

 _Who would have known that Draco Malfoy was good underneath the sneering and lies he regurgitated from his father._

 _"You wouldn't be forcing me," she responded after a tense moment._

 _She felt him shift onto his side to see her. In the darkness with nothing but the charmed ceiling, she could make out the faintest bits of his features. His short blonde hair fell over his eyes when he didn't comb it back. He wasn't the bulky sort like Ron but he wasn't thin either. Under normal circumstances, she'd have thought about how she found him attractive._

 _She swallowed when she felt his warm hand on her stomach, burning her even through the thin cotton shirt she slept in._

 _"You're sure?"_

 _Was he eager? He'd not asked once after they'd done it the one time that they absolutely had to._

 _"I wouldn't be offering if I wasn't."_

 _She could sense his smirk, the one she'd not seen since last year, emerge on his face at her bossy tone. Even she hadn't heard herself sound…like herself in ages._

 _She felt the bed shift and slowly his large frame was hovering over her. His hand moved the shirt up her stomach until he could palm one of her breasts. She felt herself shiver when he brushed a thumb over the peak. She closed her eyes for a moment as she remembered the way he'd sucked it last time and the way it had felt._

 _"You'll let me know if you change your mind," he asked. "You can change your mind at any time, Hermione. I swear on my wand I won't get upset. I've been made to do some horrible things. Please let that one sliver of my soul stay clean."_

 _"I'll let you know if I change my mind," she breathed. He'd said her name. Her given name._

 _Perhaps it was just his arousal speaking but her name on his tongue felt far more intimate than even the moment when he parted her lips for the first time and tasted her mouth._

 _He'd not kissed her on the mouth the first time, trying to arouse her by kissing along her neck and chest instead. The moment their mouths connected she felt the world around them blur. There was nothing but this boy…more of a man than any other in that cursed manor…kissing her._

 _She allowed him to rid her of her sleepshirt and underwear. He was heavy at her inner thigh then and she was surprised to find herself eager for him._

 _She could vaguely hear the bed creaking under their weight as he made gentle but thorough thrusts into her, groaning when her slender fingers brushed along his neck before fisting in his hair when he hit a spot that made her back arch. A part of her noted the way his tongue felt as it trailed along her skin, tasting her as though she wasn't dirty the way the others believed her to be. With his weight over her, pressing her into the bed and stroking her into a quickly building fire, she didn't notice the sounds of the manor that normally bothered her. She didn't notice anything but the heat of him and the way he was touching her._

 _How long had he been holding this in, she wondered. She'd never been especially attracted to him in school, mostly because his personality had been such a horrible turnoff. She wondered who was this man now making love to her. Because this didn't feel like what she imagined sex felt like, nor even just fucking. He was doing something entirely more intimate._

 _She felt her back arch again when he slid deeper, his fingers sliding between their sweaty bodies to stroke along her most sensitive area._

 _"You're close," he muttered at her ear as he stroked her faster._

 _Close indeed. Stars burst behind her eyes and she moaned quietly as she felt him crash along with her._

Hermione swallowed when they all stood straight again after the last set of memories. She didn't much enjoy allowing that private moment opened to so many but it felt necessary. They needed to know who he truly was underneath the lies. It hurt to remember. It was a flawed situation and yet he'd done everything he could for her.

He wasn't a monster. He shouldn't have to rot with those that truly were.

She'd spent months recovering after she'd been rescued at the final battle. Draco had gripped her hand so tightly before he'd been pulled away from her and filed away with the other Death Eaters.

No one had listened to her at first. They couldn't comprehend the idea that Draco Malfoy had protected someone like her and were too horrified by the other survivors' stories to listen. She'd had to show Harry and Ron those memories just to get them to see reason.

They'd been so horrified but startled as well to learn the truth. By that time, her husband—as he still was in the eyes of the law—was rotting in his cell in Azkaban. She'd refused to sign the papers that would have dissolved the marriage, a one-time offer, knowing she was his only chance at freedom.

She'd fought for months to even get the opportunity to appeal to the Wizengamot. Harry had been a big help in that.

Kingsley and the others returned to their bench to discuss what they'd seen. She waited as patiently as she could but couldn't help but become irritable the longer they whispered amongst themselves.

"The Wizengamot finds Mr. Malfoy innocent of the charges against him regarding your treatment, Ms. Granger. As a result, we agree to release Mr. Malfoy into your custody. As he is not responsible for any murders, he will serve probation of no less than one year. His behavior in custody has been exceptional and the guards all report he shows great remorse for the things he was forced to do."

Hermione watched with bated breath as Kingsley nodded at Harry. Ron, who'd been standing at the back, stepped forward and helped Harry pull Draco to his feet finally.

Kingsley banged his gavel and the room erupted into a curious buzz of conversation. Ron approached her as she stood finally to watch as they freed him.

She swallowed and reached into her small bag for the clothes she'd brought with her. She handed them to Ron.

"I underestimated his size," she frowned. "I thought he'd have lost more weight."

Ron shrugged as he eyed the wizard now being unchained. "They've been using him and the others to rebuild parts of Azkaban. Kingsley's been quite insistent on more humane treatment so they eat well enough." He turned back to face her, resting a hand comfortingly on her shoulder. "You're sure you want to bring him home with you? You feel comfortable?"

Hermione didn't miss the hurt look that flitted across Draco's face briefly when he saw Ron touching her shoulder before he was led out of the room to be allowed to cleanup.

"Yes, Ron, I'm positive."

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	2. Hers

**Phew! Thank you all for the reviews. I have to be honest. I was a bit nervous as I wasn't sure this one would be well liked. I'm glad so many have enjoyed it. As my thanks, I'd like to give you chapter two. If you enjoy this chapter, please consider leaving a review.**

* * *

 **Hers**

 _Draco watched as her finger ran over the lines on the text's page. He watched her lips, lost momentarily in the memory of how they felt against his own the first time, as she mouthed the words on the page. For all her innocence, she was the best of any of the witches he'd ever kissed in school._

 _"No, this is wrong," she shook her head. She picked up the quill he'd given her and scratched through his notes, writing a correction in her small but neat letters above the lines._

 _He bit his lip as he resisted the urge to run his fingers through her now dry curls. They were ever abundant but with her using his shampoo and conditioner, she now smelled like him. He'd not noticed the natural honeyed highlights that ran through the strands in the proper lighting. He'd probably never been close enough to see._

 _He'd found her swotty behavior so annoying in school, certain that one day she'd dislocate her shoulder with how quickly her arm shot into the air to answer a question._

 _Yet as he watched her brown eyes dart across the pages of the text and his notes and appreciated the small shape of her nose coupled the faint smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks—she had none elsewhere and he would know—he felt stupid._

 _He felt stupid as he sat next to her at his desk and listened while she muttered to herself as she critiqued his Transfiguration notes from the end of last year. They'd needed a distraction after they'd heard the yelling coming from the foyer._

 _He felt stupid ignoring how she'd matured. Sure, he'd seen it. He'd heard other boys talking about it but he'd refused to openly acknowledge it. Buckteeth gone, and hair abundant but managed with the right time and products, she wasn't unattractive. Perhaps she lacked the classic features of someone like Daphne Greengrass but he now felt certain that he preferred chocolate brown to blue irises and preferred the warmth in her brown hair to the pale blonde of the other witch. She was lovely in her own ways. Her brilliant mind was a turn on once he got past the annoyance of the past. If you took time to listen to her, really listen to the things she had to say and the brilliant ideas that she worked through, you couldn't ignore her unique intelligence._

 _His doubt already having been growing, he decided sometime after they'd been trapped together that if muggles could be responsible for bringing a witch like her into this world then what they were all fighting for was in vain._

 _"You have a solid thesis statement. It's just the execution, Draco," she commented, lifting her head finally to glance at him._

 _He swallowed when her eyes widened as she caught him staring. It was happening more often lately. "Are you calling my writing sloppy then, Hermione?"_

 _They'd made a silent agreement to address one another by their proper names._

 _She frowned at him then, not picking up on his teasing tone. "I only meant that you need to clean up your discussion a bit. You talk in circles in the fourth paragraph before making your point. Simpler is better."_

 _He nodded in acceptance of her criticism. She'd explained the way muggles sent their children to school and the instruction she'd had before Hogwarts on writing and grammar. He'd had the best tutors money could buy but he knew the tossers never corrected him the way they should've. He was no slouch at Hogwarts but she always clearly came in first in their class._

 _"You're smarter than I am," he admitted quietly, not missing but also not acknowledging her shocked look. "If you say that, then it must be true."_

 _He was in awe of her now and kicking himself for not seeing it before when he'd had the chance. How Weasley never jumped at the chance to be with her when she'd clearly been interested was beyond him. She was his now._

 _However, he knew that one day, hopefully soon, Potter would finally win and he'd have to give her back because she'd never truly be his._

She waited patiently in her office. By the time she'd been rescued, going back to Hogwarts held no appeal. She studied while recovering, ignoring those who told her to take it easy, and passed her NEWTS with some of the highest marks Hogwarts had ever seen. She jumped on a chance to join the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in an administrative role, intent to help reform the department from the inside out.

She stood finally when Harry opened her door and led Draco inside.

He was clean again as she'd requested that Harry make sure he had a shower. His hair was cropped shorter than usual, growing out already from the last time they'd cut his hair, the way they buzzed all prisoners hair off these days. The clothes she'd brought—tan muggle trousers and a plain blue button up—were a bit snug but he fit in them nonetheless. She'd have to take him shopping for new clothes now, she silently mused.

"He's all yours," Harry tried to joke. He cringed when it fell flat and his face turned serious. "Bennett said to take the rest of the week, Hermione. We'll see you on Monday."

Draco watched as Harry Potter left them alone. He'd been more than a little startled to find Potter and Weasley both being kind to him. He'd expected glares and insults from the duo but they'd remained quiet as they stood guard while he showered in the aurors' locker room. Without even asking, he knew that she'd told them everything.

He swallowed when he met her brown eyes finally. She looked better than he'd last seen her of course but she looked better than he remembered in general. Back to her normal weight, she stood before him in a tailored skirt suit. Her hair was a few inches shorter than before but long enough that her curls still fell just past her shoulders. He itched to run his hands through it again.

"You look well," he finally nodded to her as she rounded her desk.

He didn't miss the nameplate on the edge. No wonder it had been such an urgent need to rouse him from his uncomfortable sleep so early that morning when he'd been escorted from the filthy cell he'd lived in for so long now. She worked for the bleeding Ministry

"Yes," she nodded, "well I was a lot healthier than the others they recovered. They questioned me about that of course and I told them it was because you snuck me extra food. Harry was quite thankful to you for that, having seen the others."

Draco nodded and watched her closely as she edged closer to him. With her bag on her shoulder, she took his hand, noting the way he shivered at her touch.

"Let's go."

He followed her through the Ministry, ignoring the odd looks. News clearly hadn't spread yet. Only a matter of time.

He followed her through London and held her hand again when she disapparated them into a neighborhood outside of the city proper.

Hermione watched him glance around them nervously. "I— _we_ live here," she told him quietly. "I purchased it after I was released from St. Mungo's with the funds the Ministry bestowed on Ron, Harry, and I after the war. Harry lives nearby at Grimmauld Place."

He didn't meet her eyes but continued to follow her obediently. She'd been in St. Mungos. That meant he'd done a poor job in keeping her healthy.

"I'm sorry," he told her when she stopped in front of a small but pristine gated yard. He studied the façade of the house. It wasn't huge but it was no hovel either. Average. It was just average. The thought was strangely comforting.

"Why," she asked him before she stepped into the yard.

"I—you weren't well then. I didn't keep you well enough."

Hermione shook her head stubbornly, annoyed oddly with the way he wouldn't meet her eyes now. "Draco, I was fine. They wanted me checked out though, physically and mentally. The healers were quite amazed honestly with just how well I was when they brought me in."

He nodded but she felt he was only pacifying her. She shook her head and opened the gate to step inside. He followed again, up the steps and to the front door where she discreetly released the wards.

"Is the neighborhood…are they muggles," he asked quietly.

"Yes," she answered, "is that a problem?"

"No, I'm quite relieved actually."

Hermione's brow furrowed at that but now wasn't the time to dig into it. Instead, she filed that comment away to delve into later. Now she needed to get him settled and feed him.

Draco followed his wife inside and stopped in the small foyer as she took off her heels, standing nearly a foot shorter than him again and hung her bag on the hooks on the wall. It was clear that she was still getting settled as there were a few stray boxes and the walls looked rather bare. Yet she'd chosen tasteful, if simple, furniture and it looked quite comfortable. It was more than he could say for the home he was raised in.

Hermione turned to face him before she went any further. "I wanted to let you settle in and get comfortable today. I didn't touch your vaults to buy anything but this is as much yours as mine."

For now, he told himself. Divorces were difficult in the magical world but he was intent to agree to one when she inevitably brought it up once his probation was done. Those were the terms—she was responsible for him for the next year. Despite the closeness they shared during her time in the manor, he wasn't naïve enough to think she'd truly want him now.

"My vaults," he asked curiously.

Hermione licked her lips and turned to lead him further inside, knowing now that he would follow dutifully. "You're the only Malfoy left, Draco." She wouldn't remind him of what he already knew about his parents' fates. They'd died hand in hand during the final battle. "Being your legal wife, everything in your vaults was transferred into my ownership."

He nodded but said not a word.

She showed him each room of the house both upstairs and down. Showed him the bathroom and the basic toiletries she'd prepared for him

"We can go out tomorrow and get the things you like. I didn't know your sizes for clothes so I only bought a few things," she told him over dinner.

"I'm rubbish at cooking," she'd told him.

He'd not known what a delivery pizza was until the muggle showed up on the doorstep with one. He ate it without complaint, actually enjoying his first real meal of freedom. He tried to ignore the way she worried her lower lip as he ate quietly. He did many things quietly now. The boastful boy was gone and in his place was a stoic man.

He showered again while she was reading in bed. Nothing he did made him feel clean enough. When he emerged from the bathroom in a comfortable pair of cotton pajamas pants and a t-shirt, she set her book aside on the nightstand before she approached him.

She was nervous. He knew her emotions well enough, even after so much time apart, that he could tell.

Hermione stopped near the foot of her bed as he stood in the bathroom doorway. "There's a guestroom with a bed setup if you'd like."

She didn't meet his eyes and he took the moment to study her. He saw her in his dreams at night while sleeping in his cell. He imagined her warmth huddled against him while he lay pressed against the cold wall.

The entire day had been surreal and he almost couldn't fathom that she was real. In her small shorts and simple t-shirt, he itched to touch her but didn't dare. He wouldn't soil her further and the danger was now gone. She'd not welcome him, he was sure.

Draco finally nodded. "If that's where you want me."

Her head shot up finally and she met his eyes. "I—I don't sleep well really. They tried both calming and sleeping draughts but they don't help much."

He swallowed, "You always slept through the night with me."

Hermione nodded and she shifted on her feet awkwardly, "That's what I told Harry. I understand if you don't want to but…would you sleep here? With me?"

He didn't allow his shock at her request to show. She was already uncertain enough and he was past the days where he teased her for any sign of weakness.

He didn't answer and instead made his way to the side of the bed he'd always slept on. He saw her shoulders visibly relax and she went around to her side as well.

He'd spent months in a cold, dark cell when he wasn't doing manual labor just trying to remember the way it had felt to hold her, protect her. He'd begun to forget the feel of her skin or the pattern of her breathing when she fell asleep. If his last selfish indulgence should be to hold her so she could get to sleep, he'd take it. He'd berate himself later for being so weak.

She waved her wand once they were both under the covers and shrouded them in darkness.

Draco lay patiently, wondering exactly what they were to one another. She'd been his wife— _was still_ his wife—and yet he felt like a stranger. What would she do with him once his probation was complete? What did he _want_ her to do with him once it was complete?

He'd kept her clean and as comfortable as an imprisoned houseguest could be and yet she didn't smell near as lovely as she did now. She turned to him after a few moments in the darkness and pressed her back flush against his chest as they'd done before on so many nights while they pretended that none of the horror around them was happening.

"Your arm," she whispered in the darkness.

Draco inhaled the scent of lavender on her hair and wove a strong arm around her waist.

Hermione slept peacefully for the first time in months and didn't bother to question anything beyond the present moment. He smelled clean and comforting. He felt just as he did before.

 _Draco felt his body sag when Potter did it. The bloody bastard was gone. It was over—finally._

 _He'd lost track of Hermione as soon as they'd found her. She and Weasley had gone off to do whatever the bleeding fuck it was that would end this shit and he'd felt a gnawing pain each moment she was gone. She'd become such a part of his waking moments, his constant need to watch over and protect her was exhausting but he'd committed himself to it._

 _His false sense of hatred had quickly bled away into something more as he'd who she truly was. He'd been devastated by Voldemort's plan but he wasn't so sick as to torture her the way they wished for him to do. The longer he was around her in private, the more protective he became. After sometime, she read to him at night. He argued with her about surface topics—anything to keep the real horrors at bay when they were alone. At night, he indulged in holding her, not realizing how much it actually helped them both._

 _What would happen now?_

 _He found her again as they began rounding up Death Eaters. He rushed to her and cupped her face in his hands._

 _"Merlin, you're safe," he breathed._

 _"Draco, I—"_

 _He shook his head, the familiar taste of iron on his tongue from the multiple hexes he'd taken._

 _"No matter what they say, no matter what happens, I want you to know that I'm sorry."_

 _No one saw when he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead._

 _"Someone will love you properly one day," he whispered against her sweaty curls as he held her in their stolen moment. "I'm sorry for what you've endured."_

 _He was taken away before she could respond._

Draco woke alone the next morning and found another pair of muggle trousers and a grey button up left for him on the end of the bed. He brushed his teeth and changed. There was a pair of clean muggle trainers as well but they were a bit too small when he tried them on.

He trudged down the stairs quietly, shoes in hand, and found her in the kitchen. She didn't notice him at first and he stopped to take in the sight.

The kitchen was painted white with large windows. The early morning sunlight filtering in through them caught the natural golden highlights in her hair and he swallowed hard. Curls with intermittent waves were pinned back from her face but her locks fell just past her slim shoulders. Her back was to him as she stood at the stove and he allowed his eyes to trace her form slowly. She was real and no figment of his imagination. Less than twenty-four hours before he'd been imagining what she looked like now and here she was in the flesh.

Shaking his head, he finally made his presence known.

"Good morning," he greeted timidly.

Hermione turned to him with a small smile. She didn't like how uncertain he was. Like a shell of his former self. While she'd come out of everything stronger, he seemed to be broken in places she couldn't see.

"Have a seat, Draco."

He did as she told him and soon a plate of eggs and toast floated onto the table in front of him accompanied by a glass of orange juice. It was quite simple really but he felt grateful nonetheless.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," she nodded as she took the seat across from him at the small table. She eyed the shoes thoughtfully and watched as he took his first bites. "Are they too big or too small?"

"Too small," he muttered around a bite of food. His manners had clearly devolved during his time in the wizarding prison.

"I'll have to charm them then. I didn't think you'd want to keep wearing those dirty shoes they gave you. I'd forgotten these here yesterday."

Draco shrugged when he spotted the morning copy of the Daily Prophet had already arrived and was sitting haphazardly on the table. He pulled it closer to read as he shoveled his food into his mouth eagerly. She may have thought she was a poor cook but it was still better than what he'd become used to eating.

 _Love Saves the Day—War Heroine's Memories Prove that Malfoy Heir Protected Her During the War_

 _After months of negotiating, a new hearing was granted for former Death Eater, Draco Malfoy. The Wizengamot assembled just yesterday and heard testimony of Mr. Malfoy's legal wife and war heroine, Hermione Granger. Ms. Granger offered her memories of her time held in captivity after her forced marriage to the Malfoy heir as proof of his innocence. Readers will recall that Mr. Malfoy was accused of torture and abuse upon his first trial—one where his legal wife was unable to attend due to her recovering in St. Mungos. Ms. Granger had been pressing the Ministry for months to hear her appeal._

 _Sources who were inside the hearing tell us that Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger's forced marriage was not at all like it was originally painted. Mr. Malfoy never once forced himself on his wife and actually protected her from the others inside Malfoy Manor where she was held captive. Our source would not give the specifics of these memories, but only that Mr. Malfoy appeared to have serious feelings of affection for his wife. Could it be that the horrors of war brought this young couple from opposite sides closer together? That he acted out of love the entire time?_

 _Mr. Malfoy was released yesterday to his wife and will serve a year of probation which will include Ministry approved community service. The pair was seen leaving the Ministry together, hand-in-hand._

An all too familiar sneer twisted his mouth as he pushed the paper away.

"Rubbish," he muttered, mostly to himself.

"What is," she asked, not bothering to see what the paper was droning on about now. One would have thought they'd run out of material by now but it didn't seem to be happening, especially not after yesterday.

"They think I protected you because I loved you."

Hermione set her utensils down and met his eyes calmly. "And what's wrong with them believing that? Who cares?"

"I didn't do those things because I loved you, Hermione."

She stared him straight in the eyes for a moment before she shrugged. "No, you did what you thought was right."

"Exactly." Because he'd seen a chance, just one, to save someone other than himself. And he knew she was important. She would go on to serve a higher purpose and aiding her was his one way to contribute to saving their world.

"But you _do_ love me now," she stated more than questioned, his final words to her before he was taken away ringing in her mind. "I'm not stupid, Draco. You think I don't remember what you said to me before they took you away?

He swallowed and couldn't meet her eyes any longer. Yesterday had been like reopening a wound and today it was trying to heal. He felt raw under her gaze.

He'd not truly realized the gravity of those words. He'd been a fool to think she'd forget or interpret them differently.

"Yes. For all your stubbornness and pride in school, I wasn't too prideful myself to admit by the end that loving you was also right. Thinking of you was the only thing that kept me from losing my mind in that hell hole."

She continued to stare at him. His downcast eyes bothered her. "Then does it matter why they think you did it at first? Whether because it was right or because of love? Are either of those wrong? You and I both know the end result and that's all that matters to me."

His head snapped up then, dark fury in his eyes again. She was relieved to see any emotion, even anger, in him. He was still in there then. They'd not completely broken him.

"But I'm…I was one of them! I let them say things to you, horrible things."

The mix of anger and regret in his eyes and twisting his mouth did something to her.

It gave her hope. Her feelings weren't one-sided and there were equal parts of emotions at play between them, even if they weren't yet at the same place in they needed from each other.

"Because arguing would have had me killed, Draco. And you never let anyone touch me. You protected me the best you could. I'm alive because of you. Now you're free because of me. Accept it."

His shoulders slumped and he pushed his half eaten breakfast away. "I took from you when I shouldn't have." He shook his head at himself, some inner battle he wasn't voicing. "I—you had no choice and yet I touched you anyway. I was selfish and I wanted you. It might as well have been rape."

Her heart fell to her stomach then. Is that what he thought? That she wouldn't have truly fought him if she'd been so against it? Is that why he appeared so bruised and broken inside?

True, she'd spoken with a counselor at length for a few months about her feelings for her forced husband. Could she trust them? Were they just a product of a bad situation? Had she just developed Stockholm syndrome?

Yet whenever she delved back into her memories and relived the parts where the outside world couldn't get into her gilded cage with him, she saw nothing but a man hell bent on sheltering her. A man who, for whatever reason at first, knew he needed to do one thing right if nothing else. A man who had enjoyed her company and tried to actually learn about her in a way others never had.

 _"You're terrible at chess," he smirked._

 _Hermione sat cross-legged on the floor with him, glowering across the chessboard. "You're still a prat, you know? I'm not a natural strategist. That's always been Harry. I'm a planner, yes, but I often have to stop and think. I don't have the natural ability to successfully rework a plan last minute."_

 _Draco stared at her as he lay on his side. The manor was quiet for once as many were off on one of that snake's foolhardy missions. He wished desperately to release his caged bird but knew the consequences would be dire for both if they were caught. Instead, he sought to distract her as he had with his books._

 _Without pressure, she was funny and clever. She was charming in the way she blushed when she caught him staring, something that was becoming more of a habit as of late. Yet beneath that she was constantly on edge. Without a wand, she was vulnerable. Without him, she'd be as good as dead._

 _"Don't shortchange yourself," was his response as he moved his next piece. "You told me about how you got the three of you through that monstrous obstacle course first year. That certainly counts as good last minute strategy."_

 _"I don't know what to think when you compliment me," she admitted as casually as she could._

 _"Take it for what it is and don't overanalyze it."_

And yet she did overanalyze it. It took months to get to that point where they weren't having stilted conversations. With so much time together, eventually they had to talk. When they did, they realized they weren't so different. But he was careful with what he shared.

"I consented, Draco. That's very important here. We were in a bad situation and you were kind. You gave me the option to say no, knowing it would put us at further risk if they kept asking questions. I said yes. It wasn't ideal, no, but I consented and you didn't do anything I didn't want."

He met her eyes again and for the first time she truly understood how he'd been torturing himself since the beginning. He'd told her. He'd said he didn't want to be guilty of that. Of all the things he'd been forced to do, taking away her choice was not one he'd wanted on his soul.

"I swear on my wand, Draco," she insisted. Truly, she'd never felt violated by him.

She needed him to believe her. Because if he stayed, if he wanted to explore a real relationship between them in this marriage in the time that they had together over the next year, then she'd be expecting him to touch her that way again. He'd made her feel safe and loved in a place where fear had been constantly on the edges of her mind. She needed it again. She needed _him_.

He merely nodded and dropped the subject.

After she charmed the shoes two sizes larger, they set out to find him new clothes.

"We can't go into Diagon Alley," he insisted after they'd selected no less than eight pairs of trousers, and twice as many shirts and a couple of jackets in a few muggle shops.

He still favored dark colors but she didn't argue when he allowed her to select his aftershave and other personal products. He'd secretly enjoyed the way her face heated when he chanced a little flirtation and asked _'what do you want me to smell like?'_

Hermione assumed it must have been due to separation because all she'd wanted to do was take him home after that comment. It wouldn't have been appropriate though. Neither was ready for that yet.

Instead, she'd surprised him when she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek softly before choosing for him and continuing about their shopping.

"We have to," she told him as she pulled him along to finish their purchase. "You need a wand. They destroyed yours when you were imprisoned."

The idea of stepping foot anywhere magical at the moment made his stomach clench with nausea. However, he'd do as she asked of him. He owed her that.

He avoided eye contact with everyone as they passed through the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley. He knew people were staring and somehow his strong wife managed to hold her head high and pretend she didn't notice.

She also never let go of his hand and he was eternally thankful for that. He needed her strength.

Ollivander smiled when they entered his shop and Draco felt some madness must have come over him. After finding a suitable wand, the old man refused their money.

"I'll not accept payment knowing what you did for your wife, Mr. Malfoy," the man smiled kindly.

Draco hadn't known what to say but Hermione thanked him for his kindness and they left.

"News always has traveled fast," she muttered wryly.

Draco didn't understand and instead stopped to charm their shopping bags until they were small enough to fit into his trouser pockets. The feeling of magic felt odd and foreign yet familiar all at once as he recalled it. It made him feel the slightest bit like himself—only a cleaner version of the man he'd been. He'd make certain that this new wand never experienced dark magic.

Hermione stood watching quietly. "It comes back to you quicker than you think," she told him calmly.

He realized then that she knew exactly what he was feeling as she'd been without a wand the entire time she'd been at the manor.

He stowed the new wand in his pocket and held out his hand to her. She eyed it for a moment and slowly wove her fingers through his. With gold in his pockets again—she'd stopped first to withdraw from the Malfoy vaults for him—he felt the need to do something. He'd never been very brave, mostly just bark and no bite, but he wanted to do something for her. Something he'd not been able to do before when he'd realized that he had fallen in love with her.

Hermione allowed him to lead her into a jewelry store that had opened next to Madam Malkin's, confused by his interest. She noticed the way the witch behind the counter greeted them warmly, a copy of the morning's Prophet visible near the register.

Draco pulled Hermione to the counter as he glanced at the options. She bit her lip when she realized what he was intent on buying.

"Draco, that's really unnecessary."

He gave her a sharp look before he motioned to the witch behind the counter, a bit of his old arrogant self emerging.

"That one," he nodded as he pointed into the immaculate glass case.

"Fine choice," the witch grinned.

"Draco," Hermione tried to argue with a shake of her head.

She'd not noticed before that he still wore the dull silver ring he'd been given when they exchanged vows. Yet the realization made her stomach flip oddly. She'd not been able to be convinced to remove hers either.

Draco ignored her protests and lifted her left hand in his. He removed the dull silver ring and placed it carefully on the counter before he slid the oval diamond ring onto her slender finger.

"I broke the nose of the guard that tried to take mine from me," he admitted quietly as he watched her eyes glaze over while she took in the ring. "They gave up after that and I never gave them anymore trouble. We called it a truce."

She met his eyes finally and noted the softness that hadn't been there before. "I don't know what to say."

With his heart in his throat, he summoned courage that he didn't truly feel. What he was about to ask for was something he didn't think he deserved. It would likely be presumptuous but after spending all day with him and she didn't shy away once, he selfishly had to try.

"Say that we'll try. You're stuck with me at least for the next year. If it doesn't work, if _we_ don't work, in this new world…I'll grant you a divorce and whatever else you want from me. But I love you…and I'm scared of who I am without you."

Hermione swallowed, wanting desperately to kiss him but not wanting to have an audience when she finally did so. She'd never imagined anyone would say such passionate things to _her_ of all people but especially not someone like Draco Malfoy.

"Okay," she nodded. "I'd like that as well."

"I want to replace the band, too," Draco told the woman and of course she smiled once more at them.

When they left the shop, the gold in Draco's pocket was lighter and her hand now sported a lovely diamond studded band to match the ring. He'd refused to trade his own plain band, however, opting to keep it as a reminder of where they'd started. He was soiled and scarred but she…she was still clean and unmarred.

A new sense of pride settled in his chest and made him hold his head just a little higher as she was now wearing _his_ rings and not just the tainted metal they'd given her when she'd been forced to be with him.

They went home after that, neither paying much attention to the interest they garnered as they passed through the wizarding high street.

An owl was waiting for her when they returned home. Harry wanted to know if it would be okay to visit for dinner. Draco merely shrugged his shoulders when she asked if he'd be okay with it. She was uncertain about accepting as she'd still not kissed him yet.

"How are things," Harry asked her after dinner.

Draco had gone up to shower again. Dinner had been a rather quiet affair. Draco spoke little but he ate heartily and that alone gave the two former Gryffindors enough encouragement that he'd be alright.

Hermione shrugged as they stood talking quietly in the foyer. "He's carrying a lot of guilt. I'm not quite sure how to help him."

Harry nodded in understanding. Knowing what he did now after the war, he felt they'd all pegged Draco's character wrong, at least in the end.

"Is he trying to buy your forgiveness," he asked carefully, eyeing her left hand.

It was well known between him, Ron, and Ginny about the fight she'd put up in St. Mungo's when they'd tried to take her ring from her. No one had been able to understand her attachment to it, least of all Ron, until she'd shown them her memories. They'd been uncomfortable to watch but the relief it had given her two best friends was priceless.

 _But I love you…and I'm scared of who I am without you._

Hermione sighed, "No, Harry. He just…I think he just wanted to start fresh. The way I fell in love with him…it wasn't normal. I think he's trying to give me something normal. Maybe for himself as well."

He nodded and leaned down to hug her. "I trust your judgement, Hermione."

She shut the door behind him and after locking and warding the door she turned to find Draco seated at the base of the stairs waiting for her.

He'd showered and his pale, blonde hair was still damp and looking as if he'd done little more than run a towel over it. She had a hard time seeing this man as the same boy who'd once bullied her so mercilessly in school.

"We forgot pajamas," he told her when she approached him.

Hermione stared into his grey eyes as he looked up at her in the dim lighting. Her eyes slowly traveled down his body and realized he wasn't wearing a shirt, only the pair of cotton pajama bottoms from the night before.

He didn't flinch when she lifted her left hand and cupped his cheek gently. She stroked her thumb over his prominent cheekbone. He stared right back into her eyes then and lifted his chin in acceptance when she leaned forward.

She kissed him gently with both hands framing his face then. It was a short kiss but left her heart hammering in her chest when they pulled apart with a soft sound.

"I don't know that I mind," she admitted somewhat shyly.

A slow and familiar smirk curled his lips then. Her heart settled upon seeing some visage of his personality coming to the surface.

"I'm yours," he told her.

When his arms curled around her in bed that night, she buried her face in his chest this time, inhaling the clean, masculine scent of him.

Hers, her mind told her as she drifted to sleep.


	3. Consensual

**Hi everyone! First, thank you, thank you, thank you for all of the lovely reviews. You've all been so wonderful. It's more fun to write stories when you have someone who enjoys them so I'm very appreciative. I started writing this last part and it went two different ways...so I decided to divide it. Here's the official conclusion and I've decided that I love this version of Hermione and Draco too much not to take a peek at their future. So stay tuned for an epilogue to follow later this week. If you enjoy this chapter, please consider leaving a review. :)**

* * *

 **Consensual**

The first six months alternated between awkward as they learned who they both truly were outside of the gilded cage of his room at the manor and comfortable as they realized how well their personalities had likely always meshed.

Draco had had no trouble securing offers for his community service work. Everyone wanted to help the man who'd saved one third of the golden trio. They shook his hand, patted him on the back, and generally made him uncomfortable. He worked himself to the bone moving between volunteer job to volunteer job.

He knew what they were saying behind his back. They thought they'd pegged him wrong. They felt bad that he'd served so much time before the Ministry freed him.

They didn't realize that it was _he_ who'd made the wrong choices. It was _he_ who'd not stood up to his father. It was _he_ who'd not rebelled against what he was taught until it was too late.

Hermione sat up in bed late one night with her work braced against her knees. She'd doused the overhead light hours ago, opting for the ambient light from the dim lamp on her bedside table. Her quill scribbled across the parchment as she struggled to reword the amendment her office was proposing. Her other hand remained where it had been for a while—carding through her husband's soft hair as he slept soundly at her side.

She paused in her writing for a moment as she glanced at him. He'd come in from his volunteer work at Gringott's plainly exhausted. The goblins cared much less than others if he was redeemed or not and had him do their harder manual labor. She didn't understand why he chose more often than not to volunteer there during the day when they clearly worked him harder than anyone else.

He ate the leftovers she saved him from her dinner out with Harry and Ron and showered before he fell face first into their bed. He'd been agitated and unable to settle until she reached over and began to massage his scalp. She'd watched the way his broad shoulders had relaxed and not long after his breathing had evened out and he'd fallen fast asleep.

She sighed as she finally pulled her hand back. She rolled her shoulder, working out the soreness from reaching over for so long.

When she wasn't working and he wasn't doing his community service, they spent the majority of their time together, whether alone or with her friends. He'd not sought out any of his former schoolmates which she found odd at first. It was even more so after she mentioned to him one evening over dinner how Blaise Zabini had asked about him at work after more details of their relationship and his trial had gone public. However, after a rather intense argument about it, she'd dropped the subject. She wasn't going to push him.

Harry and Ron had at least gone so far as to take him to a quidditch match—more like force him really. Despite his reluctance, he'd turned up afterwards in a cheerful mood so she felt assured that at least he had someone else besides just herself. He did still sneered at Harry and Ron half the time but it was halfhearted at best. He found Ginny entertaining and would usually at least crack a smile at her jokes when the three were over to their house for dinner.

As well as things were going as they all learned how map their friendships with him in their lives, they were at a standstill in their marriage. He still hardly touched her. He allowed her to kiss him anytime she wanted but he wasn't comfortable initiating.

Horrors of the war were difficult to forget but she had no bad memories associated with physical intimacy and him. She'd tried numerous times to explain but he'd not seemed ready to hear it.

"Women have needs, too, you git," she muttered wryly.

Looking at him was lovely and she'd not deny her physical attraction to him now. However, it was the way he listened when she talked about work, the way he responded to her frustrations and made her a simple cup of tea to relax her that really sent her libido thrumming. Perhaps he'd always been a somewhat sensitive under that façade he'd crafted growing up.

Draco Malfoy cared about her deeply and he was trying in his own emotionally clumsy way to let her know. She appreciated it. She really did and tried her best to let him know but she still craved for more.

But he confused Hermione. Sometimes he sent her such heated looks but he never acted.

She sighed as she set her parchment and quill aside finally. It was Friday night after all. She had plenty of time to finish her notes.

"What's wrong?"

Hermione jumped when she heard his voice, deep with sleep still. She smiled at him though when she turned to find him on his side now and looking up at her.

"Nothing, Draco. Get back to sleep."

He caught her left hand as she was about to lean over to turn off the dim lamp and she turned back to him.

"I'm not as oblivious as you think. You're upset with me."

Hermione sighed heavily and withdrew her hand from his. She brought her hands together in her lap as she twisted the rings he'd given her around her finger, her nervous habit as of late.

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," he insisted as he propped himself on an elbow and blinked at her.

"Fine. It's selfish then."

He snorted which caused her to lift a curious brow as she met his eyes hesitantly.

"Rubbish. I'm an expert in selfishness and you, Hermione Granger, don't have a selfish bone in your body."

She rolled her eyes at him and somehow managed a small smile. "You put me on a pedestal that I can't possibly balance on, Draco."

He shrugged one shoulder, uncaring about her silly protests. He'd put her on whatever pedestal he wanted.

"Tell me what's bothering you, Hermione. I've kept silent long enough. You've been like this all week."

She groaned and turned off the lamp before she lay down on her side to face him. It was odd sometimes. She'd never in a million years have imagined that she'd be here one day, lying next to him. Never have imagined that he'd allow it.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

He gave her a small smirk. "Not bloody likely."

She sighed and reached out hesitantly to place a flat palm on his chest, right over his heart. He was warm to the touch and she wanted to melt in the feeling.

"You won't touch me," she admitted, feeling rather petulant saying it out loud.

His brow furrowed in the dark, confused. "I touch you plenty. You sleep on my chest most nights as it is."

"That's not what I mean, Draco." She closed her eyes for a moment as she tried to summon her courage. "You don't… _touch_ me."

He blinked into the darkness as her words washed over him. She wanted him to make a move. She wanted him to touch her more intimately.

He wanted that, too, but at what cost? He'd thought that after enough time he'd be able to do it, that he'd be able to make love to his wife again. However, every time he thought about it, he imagined that night when she'd all but offered herself up to him. She'd not rescinded her consent but he still blamed himself for taking her offer.

Would she have ever wanted him if the threat of their safety hadn't been a factor?

"I want you, Draco," she whispered into the darkness. Her voice cracked as she fought the impending tears. She was so tired. So tired of them both fighting old memories. "But if you no longer want me then I—"

That was his catalyst.

Draco shushed her with his mouth pressed firmly to hers. He took advantage for once of her parted lips and slid his tongue past to caress hers. She tasted like freedom and acceptance, earl grey tea and toothpaste.

Hermione was shocked for a moment, her heart hammering inside her chest, but she recovered quickly enough. She buried her hands in his hair as he leaned over her and his tongue tamped down her doubts with every stroke.

Draco pulled back after a moment and panted over her.

"Don't think for one second that I don't still want you," he breathed against her mouth. "Merlin knows I want you more than I deserve."

"Stop that," she argued and there were tears building in her voice. "Stop saying that. I told you your first morning here, Draco. You protected me and you loved me. You did not, for one moment, ever betray my trust in that hell hole. You can tell yourself whatever you want about your character but you need to understand that _I_ accepted _you_. The way we fell in love wasn't perfect—it was downright wrong—but you can't change what is now."

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips again before resting his forehead against hers. "I want you, Hermione but I don't know if I can…" He shook his head at himself shamefully.

She swallowed and shifted under him, arching her back slightly as she tested him. He was already hard against her thigh so that clearly wasn't the problem.

"Will it help if I lead?"

He stared at her face in the dark of their bedroom, still able to make out her features in the dim moonlight shining through their window. Soft lips, small nose, long lashes, teeth that were more perfect than when they'd first met as first years, and curls spread about her head on the pillow—she was everything he didn't know he wanted until she'd been forced upon him. He'd eat crow five times over if he could erase his past.

Draco rolled onto his back finally as an answer and held his breath as his wife sat up. He watched in the darkness as she slowly slid her t-shirt over her head and he felt himself tighten more at the sight of her bare torso. Once he got over whatever mental barrier this was, he vowed he was going to kiss and lick every inch of her skin. His chest rose and fell faster as he watched her shimmy out of her underwear before she carefully straddled his hips.

He swallowed against his quickly drying throat when she rested her hands flat against his chest and leaned down to kiss him. Gentle fingers curled against his chest when he caressed her tongue with his.

She whimpered against his mouth when he stroked his fingers along the insides of her thighs. She was on fire already. He felt it when his fingers came away slick.

He lifted his hips when she made to push his underwear down to free him. A quiet groan escaped him when she sunk down on him and yet he kept his eyes on her the entire time, mesmerized by the sight of her.

Her lips parted the slightest and her eyes closed contentedly. They opened to him again when he pressed a flat palm to her stomach and slowly slid it the distance to her chest, his other hand spread wide and bracing her lower back as he caressed her. He continued his trail, caressing her smooth skin from navel to between her breasts and she watched him.

He lost it the moment when she reached for both of his hands and placed them on her bare hips.

"Help me," she whispered as she leaned forward to kiss him again.

And so they moved together. He guided her hips in a steady rhythm they both favored, slow and deep. However, after a while she seemed to tire and he did the gentlemanly thing and turned her onto her back to take the lead. She gave him a small smile then and he felt her glorious fingers move from his shoulder to massage through his hair. He caged her in his arms protectively as he took up their slow, tortuous rhythm again.

He could do this. He could make love to his wife.

Hermione arched against him when he hit a spot inside her that she didn't think would ever be touched again. Sometime after she'd come home from St. Mungo's she'd begun to fantasize about just this. Being husband and wife in the most mundane sense, making love in their own cocoon of normalcy. But he was better than a fantasy. He was better than her hands and her own imaginings.

"I love the sounds you make," he breathed at her ear. He punctuated the admission with a roll of his hips that sent her eyes rolling back. The sight nearly undid him but he gritted his teeth and held strong.

"I love the way you feel inside me," she countered and he moaned at her possessive tone as much as the way her nails scraped along his spine.

Hermione's experience with sex was limited to only him but she knew even after the few times they'd done this that this time would be exemplary. There was no question that this time they were truly and openly in love with one another.

Draco groaned and his eyes screwed shut when she came and he hurdled along after her, her fingers curling into claws at his shoulders while her teeth teased his shoulder as she nipped him.

He felt her melt into the sheets as she came down from her high but he wasn't ready to leave her yet. He loved her sigh when he peppered her neck with gentle kisses and he loved the way she ran her fingers lovingly through his hair.

In school, she'd always been so prim and proper that he'd never have pegged her for being so touchy. However, he reveled in her need to touch him.

"I love you," she whispered at his ear.

He kissed her lips again finally. "I love you more."

When she fell asleep on his chest, he sighed with a contentment he'd not felt since he was a blissfully ignorant teenager.

Everything felt different now.


	4. Epilogue: Reformation

**Thank you to everyone who stuck in there waiting for this conclusion. I got heavily invested in the writing of this one, really trying to get it right. I felt these two deserved a happy ending so here's a bit of a lighter epilogue.**

 ***Shout out to Melek62 because you brought something to my attention that definitely should be addressed. It's small but I didn't want to pass it over entirely.**

 **Please read and review.**

* * *

 **Reformation**

 _Five Years Later_

Draco stooped low as he carefully poured a vial into his cauldron. He'd always taken potion brewing very seriously. While this one wasn't particularly complicated, he was being extra careful in his efforts to make it right.

His lip curled into a sneer when someone sneezed loudly.

"Potter, if you insist on annoying me in my home lab then at least control your bodily functions."

Harry rolled his eyes dramatically and stood to inspect what Draco was brewing. "You told me I could wait here."

" _If_ you were quiet. In the past ten minutes, you've sneezed twice and asked me no less than five questions. Now keep it down so I don't bungle this."

"You haven't said what you're brewing anyway. What is it?"

Draco sighed heavily as he ignored the question in favor of adding his last ingredient before he stood to his full height. He thanked Merlin that it was Saturday and he didn't have work or he'd feel rushed.

"You're a right nuisance, Potter."

Harry lifted an insistent eyebrow in question and became even more curious when the blonde wizard blushed while managing to simultaneously sneer.

"It's a morning sickness potion."

Harry's eyebrows lifted nearly to his hairline. "Is she…," he let the question dangle in the air.

Draco narrowed his eyes at his once enemy. "Yes, and she wanted to tell you herself so I'd very much appreciate it if you'd act surprised, Potter. She won't be very pleased with me if she finds out I let it slip prematurely. We only found out this week."

The dark-haired wizard snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. "It still amazes me that after all this time, you're still afraid of her."

Draco watched the liquid simmer in the small cauldron, waiting for just the right moment to pour it into glass so he could cool it.

"I believe it's advisable to have a healthy fear of your wife, Potter."

Harry just grinned amusedly but deep down he was pleased. Draco Malfoy was just as besotted with Hermione as the day she'd brought him home from the Ministry.

Hermione had confided in him and Ron that it had taken some time their first year and before Draco's probation was complete to find their footing in their marriage. Draco struggled to come to terms with her forgiveness—forgiveness she only gave as a formality as she claimed continuously that it wasn't necessary. He'd done nothing to require it.

After their first year together and his probation complete, he found more peace with himself. With some soul searching and encouragement from Hermione, he'd taken on an apprenticeship at St. Mungo's in their Potion Brewing Department. He was now in his first year as a full-time Potion Master. He was one of few charged with brewing the more delicate potions for patients. He found the job fulfilling and finally feeling like he was contributing to both society and his marriage.

It was only recently that they had found out about the baby. Draco had been nervous about the idea of being a father, considering his poor example growing up. However, Hermione wanted children and more than anything he wanted a family with her. Therefore, they'd begun trying in earnest.

"Fair enough," Harry nodded. "Ginny has her moments, too. However, I still firmly insist that you're whipped."

Draco merely shrugged, used to the quip by now. Potter and Weasley both joked about it regularly but he didn't care. He lived for Hermione's smiles and affection. He no longer beat himself up for the past and how their marriage began but it didn't mean he valued her love any less. She could have divorced him on the spot but instead she'd made the effort to mend him. He knew he was difficult and rather moody at times with her friends but she loved him nonetheless. Therefore, he'd pamper his wife as he saw fit.

He once admitted to Hermione that he occasionally thought of the fact that it was Voldemort to thank for their being brought together. It was odd, he'd noted and she'd agreed but understood. It had taken bigotry to bring them together.

The wizarding world wasn't apt to forget it either. While the press eventually calmed, there was still the occasional note here and there when they appeared at whatever work function she had about how they stood as a symbol of peace and growth. They'd been mutually annoyed by it at first, not relishing being used a political example when no one truly knew the intimate details of their marriage. After all, there'd been more than a few arguments throughout their relationship regarding their differences once Draco's timid nature began to bleed away and the good parts of his normal personality reemerged. (Though all of Hermione's friends would agree that he was far more enjoyable to be around now that he was utterly besotted with her.)

However, oddly it had been Ron to make them come around about the press.

 _"Look at it this way. What example did we have before? Bloody stuffy history, that's what. As long as there's an example, people are less inclined to backslide." He'd shrugged then and stuffed half a sandwich in his mouth. "It could be worse," he'd mumbled._

Draco had been openly shocked to hear such a clever observation from the man. But Hermione had merely smiled. They'd all changed then. Still the same in some ways as Draco next quipped about the hoard of food Ron had consumed during that meal and the subsequent rude hand gesture from her redheaded friend, but definitely changed as Draco merely smirked before he leaned over and kissed her gently.

"You can wait in the living room. She'll feel better after she's had this," he gestured toward the cup.

Harry followed him out of the downstairs lab and shut the door firmly behind them. Draco hurried up the stairs, careful not to slosh the precious contents in the glass. She'd been unfortunately cursed with horrible morning sickness. It was what prompted them to realize she might be pregnant before they made their first appointment with the healer two days prior.

Draco fought a smirk when he entered their bedroom and found his wife huddled under their blankets, her small body curled around his pillow.

She always did that. Especially if he was ever called in for emergency shifts on the weekends. As soon as he left the bed, she stole his pillow and hugged it to her chest.

"Alright then, roll over, love."

Hermione groaned and opened her eyes when she heard his voice. However, she did as he instructed and rolled onto her back. She cringed as another wave of nausea washed over her.

"Your bloody child is going to be the death of me," she muttered weakly.

He sighed as he took a seat on the edge of the bed and carefully slid a hand behind her head to lift her enough to drink.

"Yes, I'm aware. She'll be difficult, just like me."

Hermione grimaced as the cup neared her lips and glanced up at him petulantly. "How can you possibly believe it's a girl? We won't know the sex for quite a few weeks still."

Draco smirked then and shook his head. "Because you, Hermione Granger, have always contradicted all of my expectations. There's not been a girl born into the Malfoy line in at least two centuries. I have no doubts our first child will be a girl."

She frowned when he slid the glass to her lips again but opened her mouth and swallowed it all as quickly as possible. Her nose wrinkled afterwards and she licked her lips. "You added peppermint to offset the taste."

"Did it help," he smiled softly as he guided her head back to her pillow.

She shrugged and breathed in deeply as the potion began its work. "A bit but it's still vile."

"Better than hanging your head over the toilet. I'll play around with some other ingredients to offset the taste when I brew your supply this evening."

Hermione didn't respond and merely rolled onto her side until she could rest her head in his lap. She sighed contentedly when she felt his fingers begin running through her curls.

Draco gazed at her as she finally relaxed. He hated seeing her uncomfortable even for a moment. He kept one hand stroking her head as his other migrated to her still flat stomach. He slid his hand under her shirt and spread his palm over her skin. Their child was in there. It still amazed him that they'd created something together. It was something good and something without the taint of their past.

He massaged oweverHO

her stomach for a few moments, indulging her rare desire to be spoiled. His independent witch—she was usually too busy taking care of everyone else, himself included, to stop and allow herself a moment. But that was what having a husband was for, he silently mused with a smile. He secretly relished the idea that maybe she'd allow him to pamper her a bit more than usual during her pregnancy.

"Potter is downstairs for you."

Hermione opened her eyes and glanced up at him. She studied his face and then narrowed her eyes.

"Loose lips sink ships, Draco," she drawled sarcastically.

Draco groaned and shifted as she sat up. "How do you do that?"

She shrugged as she straightened her pajamas, not caring if her best friend saw her before she'd dressed for the day. "You've a look that gives you away when you know you've done something I've asked you not to."

He helped her out of bed and followed her into the hall. "He asked what the potion was and knew you weren't feeling well. What was I supposed to say?"

"You could have tried the usual." She lowered her voice in a mock of his own, "Shove off, Potter, and mind your own business."

"That's neither flattering nor accurate," he drawled as they descended the stairs together.

She glanced over her shoulder at him with an impish grin. "Who said I was attempting to flatter you? I believe you've had your ego stroked enough in bed last night."

He snorted at how proud she looked for her quip. However, he chose not to argue further. She had indeed enjoyed his attentions quite thoroughly and he counted no less than seven sinful moans of his name. Intimacy was clearly no longer an issue for them.

"Morning, Harry," she greeted the dark-haired man with a hug.

Draco rolled his eyes and made for the kitchen to clean the glass and plot her friend's demise for his earlier irritations.

"Feeling better," Harry asked, doing his best to keep his expression neutral. "Malfoy said you weren't feeling well this morning? Caught a bug?"

Hermione sighed heavily as she collapsed into the nearest chair, gesturing for him to do the same. "You can come off it, Harry. He had _the look_. I know you know."

Harry's face briefly showed shock before he masked it but not quickly enough. "I don't know what you think that you know that I know."

Hermione pursed her lips as she shook her head at him. Men were so ridiculous sometimes.

"Who could possibly follow that line of reasoning, Potter," Draco questioned as he returned and perched himself on the arm of his wife's chair.

"Bastard," Harry muttered to himself. He glanced back at Hermione and offered her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Hermione. I did question him. I was only concerned. Congratulations?"

She laughed softly and nodded. "It's fine. I'll punish the great prat later," she glared playfully up at her husband before looking back to her friend. "And thank you. Morning sickness aside, we're quite thrilled."

She looked to Draco again with a smile when he stroked a hand over her hair tenderly, ignoring Harry's mock gagging in the background.

"Very mature, Potter," he sneered. "We're in our mid-twenties now. Grow up."

"Merlin," Harry shook his head, "There's the day when Draco Malfoy tells you to mature. Anyway, I'm here because of Ron."

Hermione sat up straighter then. Ron had started to date Pansy Parkinson of all people six months ago and both Harry and Hermione had both been rather surprised by the pair. However, given Draco's transformation during the war, no one felt comfortable judging a book by its cover.

"Well," she asked impatiently. "Did he do it?"

Draco poked her shoulder. "Do what?"

"He did," Harry smirked. "He went for it and she said yes."

"Merlin," Hermione muttered, wide-eyed.

"Will someone tell me what the bloody hell you two or going on about?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry's smirk and glanced up at Draco. "Ron proposed to Pansy last night."

He looked rather shocked by that. He'd been somewhat hesitant to associate with any of his old friends from before the war over the last several years. He'd had little idea what Pansy had been up to after the war and only recently learned about her life since when Ron Weasley had begun to date the witch.

"Ginny wants to throw them an engagement party," Harry added. "Next Saturday in Diagon Alley. She already called up the restaurant to reserve the room."

"We'll be there," Hermione nodded.

"Like hell," Draco griped. "I didn't consent to that."

He and Pansy had had words during the groups' first dinner together when she'd shown up with Weasley. She'd expressed a lot of anger with him for not reaching out and even went so far as to blame Hermione for his isolation. To say he'd set the witch straight was putting it nicely and she'd tip-toed around him ever since at group get-togethers.

"You'll consent or you'll find yourself on the sofa tonight and little Draco is going to be experiencing quite the drought."

"Ugh, Hermione," Harry groaned under his breath, shaking his head.

She ignored him and continued to stare up at her husband whose eyes had gone wide at her threat. She rarely threatened to cut him off in the bedroom as she enjoyed it too much herself.

"That's rather devious of you, Hermione," he muttered.

She sighed and gripped his shirt, pulling him down to whisper in his ear. "Agree and I'll make it more than worth your while, Draco. I know you like me on top. It's been a while as the healers advised it wasn't the best position for conceiving."

She leaned back to meet his eyes and a smile curled her lips when his grey eyes darkened.

His head shot up and he looked at her friend. "I'm in. I'll pay for the bloody thing if I need to. Whatever you want."

Harry glanced at Hermione then who was back to sitting primly in her seat, looking angelic as ever. He shook his head. "I'll never understand you two fully. I don't even want to know what you promised him to make him that agreeable." He grinned then, "But I will take the nutter up on his offer to share the costs."

Draco waved a dismissive hand. "Whatever, Potter. Tell them to charge my half to my account."

Harry left not long after and Hermione stood to meet Draco when he returned from showing him out.

"In all seriousness, are you going to be okay attending the party," she asked when he met her in the middle of the room.

Draco settled his hands on her hips as he leaned down and brushed a gentle kiss to her lips. "Yes, Hermione. If you're going to continue to be friends with that giant ginger rodent, Pansy and I will eventually have to come to terms with one another."

Hermione licked her lips, tasting his morning tea as she stared up into those grey eyes she'd come to love so much. "She apologized to me last week."

His brow furrowed and he made to follow her when she pulled away from him to move into the kitchen.

"You didn't tell me that."

"She asked me not to," she shrugged. "She planned to speak with you on her own soon."

He huffed but didn't answer, instead turning to face the stove where he lit a burner and set down a pan.

He'd become rather adept at cooking over the years. He'd eventually insisted on learning in his off time from his apprenticeship and before going to work full time. He'd teased her that at least one of them needed to be skilled in that department unless they intended to live on takeaway for the rest of their lives.

Hermione had to admit that it was rather nice to come home to a loving husband and a good meal after a long day at the Ministry. He could tease her all he wanted about her terrible cooking but she didn't care when he placed a plate of his homemade chicken parmigiana in front of her.

As she watched him begin to cook a light breakfast for them before they started their day running weekend errands, she wondered if he was truly okay. She recalled her first interaction with Pansy six months ago and it hadn't sat well with her then.

 _"Granger," Pansy Parkinson greeted as Hermione entered the living room at Grimmauld Place._

 _Hermione wasn't quite sure what to make of the witch that had snagged her best friend. However, she trusted Ron implicitly that for him of all people to be interested in someone like Pansy then the witch must have changed._

 _"Pansy, I've heard great things from Ron," she offered the witch a smile._

 _She couldn't really say it was lovely to see her as the last time she had the Slytherin was calling for McGonagall to give over Harry to the Death Eaters. However, Ron had been talking her up quite a bit to everyone in hopes of the first meeting going well. Given how well Ron had taken her relationship with Draco she felt she owed him the same._

 _"Draco's well," she asked._

 _That was a subject Hermione was definitely comfortable with. She smiled, "He's doing very well. Just started full-time as St. Mungo's and he's really enjoying it."_

 _Pansy shrugged, her mouth pulling into a scowl. "I wouldn't know. He's not spoken to me in years now."_

 _Hermione fought the urge to cringe. She knew well why Draco chose not to seek out his old friends. "He's kind of kept to himself after the war." She released a nervous laugh, "He's kind of a homebody really."_

 _Pansy sniffed, "Well, he's certainly not afraid to be seen in public with you. Can't be that much of a homebody given how often the Prophet still publishes photos of you both. Seems to me you don't want him socializing with any of us. Who can blame you?"_

 _The witch walked away without another word leaving Hermione standing there in surprise._

Draco had been livid when he'd eventually dragged the news of the encounter out of her as he'd been stuck at work that evening. What was more surprising is that Draco had gone straight to Ron to inform him of it as she'd not wanted to make a scene at the time.

Ron had been rather upset and assured her that she really had changed. He'd talk with her.

 _"Don't force her to apologize, Ron. Let her work through it in her own time. I'm fine."_

The first time Pansy and Draco had actually been in a room together, things didn't improve. They'd had words about Pansy's behavior and both left disgruntled.

But with a bit of time, she finally did apologize. After watching Draco deal with his own struggles, Hermione wasn't very keen on forcing people to move past emotions when they weren't ready. Sometimes time really was the best medicine.

Draco said nothing more about the engagement party for the rest of the week. Hermione worried a bit over the fact that he wasn't sharing his opinions on the matter when normally he didn't shy away from ranting to her when something was bothering him. Instead, he went to work and came home to cook dinner as always. He asked about her day, read with her in bed, and made love to her as normal.

However, being married for close to six and a half years total, she wasn't naïve. It was bothering him.

When she emerged Saturday evening in her cocktail dress and found him tying his tie in her long mirror, she finally brought it up.

"Draco, do you think we should talk about this?"

He shrugged, not bothering to look up from his task. His lip curled irritably when she batted his hands away and took over for him. She did that often. Claimed the first time that his ties were always messy even in school. He'd fought the urge to ask why she'd noticed and instead just kissed her.

"I know you, Draco. I think at this point in our marriage I may know you better than you know yourself."

"You always were a little know-it-all," he muttered.

Hermione smirked at him as she finished knotting his tie. "Yes, and as I recall you now enjoy that aspect of my personality. I do believe reading you a book is now considered foreplay."

He groaned because he knew she was right. "Get to the point, Hermione."

"You're going to have to deal with Pansy one way or another. In addition, you'll likely see more of your former housemates. Surely you realize this, Draco."

He sighed heavily and wound his arms around her before he pulled her close. He loathed her thick curls that were now pulled back into an elegant chignon. He wanted nothing more than to bury his nose in them. Her scent always calmed him. He settled for kissing her temple and giving her a gentle squeeze.

"They don't understand, Hermione. There's no way they could possibly understand what you and I went through together."

"No, there's not," she agreed. "But it doesn't mean they haven't progressed much like you have, Draco. You have to give them a chance to prove it. Unless they were never really your friends at all."

He shrugged with his arms still around her. "Perhaps some of them weren't truly. Maybe just Blaise and Pansy."

Hermione pushed at his chest enough to lean back and meet his eyes. "I can certainly attest that Blaise has changed. He's a cheeky little prat sometimes at work but he's quite nice actually."

Draco narrowed his eyes then. "Cheeky? Do I need to have a word with the tosser regarding my wife?"

"Oh, keep your wand in your pocket," she rolled her eyes as she pulled away entirely and reached for her bag on her dresser. "No one is stupid enough to even lay eyes on me after the Christmas party fiasco three years ago. You scared poor Michael Corner within an inch of his life."

"As the git should be," Draco nodded to himself as he followed her out of their bedroom.

By the time they reached the restaurant, people were already arriving. They followed a levitating tray with drinks to the spacious party room and immediately sought out Harry and Ginny.

Ginny pulled Hermione in for a rather exuberant hug. "Oh, I'm just so happy for you both," she squealed as quietly as possible.

"Harry," Hermione hissed as she extracted herself from the redhead's arms.

Harry stepped behind his wife all while sporting an apologetic smile, his eyes darting between his best friend and her irritated looking husband.

"Sorry, Hermione. She dragged it out of me. You know how she is."

Hermione sighed, "Merlin, you two. What will I ever do with you?"

"Hex them in the arse when they're not looking," Draco added casually, hands in his pockets as he smirked at the other couple.

"Not a terrible idea," Hermione agreed, giving Harry and Ginny each a pointed look. "Keep it to yourself for a while, yeah?"

"Oh, come off it," Ginny grinned. She took her friend's arm and led her off to the drinks, fully intending to find _non_ -alcoholic options.

It was a beat before either men spoke. Draco nabbed a drink from a passing tray and sipped it casually. Harry waited to see if he would speak first but finally shrugged. The stoic Slytherin wasn't likely to do so.

"Are you scared," Harry asked him finally.

Draco turned grey eyes to meet green and stared for a moment. Without saying it, he knew what the spectacled wizard was asking him.

He didn't have the relationship with Harry Potter that Hermione did and likely never would. Yet he couldn't exactly forget the way that Potter and Weasley both had been there over the years. They'd been there for Hermione when he was still tackling his own demons. And they'd even been there for him—unsolicited but still there. He might even one day work up the courage to let them know he appreciated it.

They accepted him for Hermione's sake. Forgave and forgot more easily than came naturally to someone like him but he couldn't be blind to it.

Their common denominator might always be Hermione but Draco couldn't deny that he respected her friends.

Harry watched as the blonde stood there staring. He knew this look now. Malfoy was processing. Deciding what he felt comfortable sharing and with whom.

"Bloody petrified," Draco admitted after a moment.

"You'll be fine," the dark-haired wizard assured him, relieved to get a response. Sometimes he still wasn't sure that Draco realized they didn't see him as the petulant child he'd once been.

"You met my father, Potter. I didn't exactly have the most nurturing example growing up."

Harry shrugged and sipped his drink. "Yeah, and I didn't have any example at all really. I'm telling you; you'll be fine. I had a lot of the same doubts before James was born. They go away with a bit of time though."

"I'm not you, Potter. I was an evil little shit growing up. Horrible until I was tasked with Hermione's life."

"That's it right there," he grinned. "Being responsible for someone else generally brings out the best in you, not the worst. And if I'm to judge by how you treat Hermione, even when you're fighting with each other, then your kids will be thoroughly loved."

"She gave me purpose," Draco admitted. He'd never really talked to anyone but Hermione about his own issues during the war. He'd had a few short conversations with Ginny Potter but never her two oldest, closest friends. "I was spinning my wheels, as the muggles say. I had nothing to fight for and no reason for being except waiting for the moment I inevitably failed for the last time and the fucker decided to end me."

He shook his head with a heavy sigh as memories washed over him but he refused to let them pull him into the currents as they once did. Things were better now. He was better now.

"When they brought her in and I realized what they intended to do—I don't really know but something inside me snapped. I'd joked about hurting her and any other muggleborn in the past but then it was reality and I couldn't do it. I didn't realize until that moment that, maybe not always positively, but she meant something to me. I couldn't stomach allowing anything to happen to her."

"And Ron and I will always be eternally grateful to you for that." Harry gestured with his free hand around the room that was quickly filling with a variety of guests. "The world's changed. _We've_ all changed. Perhaps it's time to stop letting fear drive us and instead dive in head first. Enjoy it."

Draco stared for a moment before finally lifting his glass to his lips for a sip. "What a Gryffindor thing to say, Potter."

Harry stared back and ultimately rolled his eyes. "You're a mood killer, Malfoy."

"Always have and always will," Draco smirked, lifting his glass in a mock salute.

Despite his flippant reaction, Harry could tell that Draco appreciated the reassurance. They were saved from another sentimental moment when Ron finally joined them with Pansy at his side.

"Congratulations," Harry offered the two a genuine smile and lift of his drink.

"Thanks, mate," Ron grinned. He glanced at Draco who was standing there calmly, finding his drink far too interesting. "And thanks for coming, Malfoy."

Draco lifted his eyes to meet the redhead's. The unspoken message was clear. Weasley knew about the tension between Draco and his former housemate. He also knew that Draco's dedication to his wife was far stronger than any conflict.

"Yes, well Hermione wouldn't have let me live down the poor display of manners should I have missed. She gets quite mental about those sorts of things, as you well know." He lifted his drink in salute again, his own message clear.

Ron gave him a crooked grin and nodded before he shared a look with Harry. "Merlin, do we."

Draco watched as the two former Gyrffindors spoke through eye contact. He bloody hated it when they did that. He knew what was coming next.

"I'm going to get a drink," Ron told Pansy and he and Harry wandered off without a word.

Pansy sighed heavily as she stood in front of him, nervously twisting her engagement ring around her finger.

"Barmy Gryffindors," he griped after a beat of silence, "always making people see reason."

Pansy glanced up at him with a smirk, dropping her hands to her sides. "Horrible, isn't it? If only they knew how to be cold and calculating like us."

Draco licked his lips as he eyed his drink before meeting his old friend's eyes again. "Hermione claims she's not very strategic yet it's nothing but strategy involved whenever she manages to trick me into doing something I don't want to do."

Pansy swallowed hard then and he wondered what he'd said wrong.

"Draco, I…I'm sorry about how I spoke to her when Ron and I first started dating. I apologized to her myself recently but…well I know you were angry about it."

He inhaled deeply. Hermione always said to take a breath before speaking. It allowed more time to choose your words.

"You blamed my wife for something that was ultimately my choice. Given our history, surely you understand that I'm very protective of her."

Pansy nodded, "No, I understand that. Ron's since filled me in on more details than I knew from the stories in the Prophet. I'm sorry you both went through that. I just…well I know I hadn't come to see reason when you had and it did take me a bit longer but I swear on my wand that I'm no longer that person, Draco. I'd never say something hurtful about your wife's heritage and I don't have issues with muggles."

Draco eyed his shoes as he listened to her, unable to meet her eyes. "I beat myself up for a long time for how I'd treated her in school and then the fact that she was forced to be with me. I just…I guess I'm sometimes overprotective."

Pansy touched his arm gently, prompting him to look at her. "Draco, you were forced as much as she was. You realize that, right? I certainly agree you were horrible to her," she smirked when he snorted, "but she didn't like you either then. Don't you think some part of her felt bad that you were being forced as well?"

He huffed at that and dropped his empty glass on a passing tray before he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"You're beginning to sound like one of them. Be careful, your children might be wearing red and gold one day."

Her smirk lifted into a full grin. "Says the man who's frankly head over heels for his Gryffindor wife. I'd venture to say the same for yours but that yours will also be little know-it-alls."

He smirked in return, feeling quite relieved that they seemed to be on more even ground. "Likely so but I can't say I'd be disappointed if they take after her. I'd be quite lucky."

Hermione, Ginny, Ron, and Harry all watched the two as they spoke. Hermione and Ron, in particular, feeling quite invested in the outcome of their discussion.

"He's smirking," Ron noted as he stuffed a piece of cheese in his mouth. "That's good, right? I don't speak Malfoy as well as you and Harry, Hermione."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and sighed before a smile finally curled her mouth. "Yes, Ron. It's a good thing. They'll be friends again, I'm sure."

"Oh," Harry nudged Ron, "Zabini's joining them."

They watched as the now trio began talking. Hermione eye's widened when Draco lifted a stern finger and poked his old friend in the chest.

"Oh dear, I'd better intervene or I'm afraid we're going to have another Michael Corner incident."

Ron's brow furrowed as he glanced over at her. "Why?"

She shrugged helplessly, "I called Blaise cheeky and he inferred that to mean that he gets flirtatious with me."

"He kind of does sometimes," Harry grinned, already amused. They all loved to retell the Christmas fiasco. It had quickly become one of their favorite stories.

"Don't make it worse, Harry," she chastised lightly. She set her glass of water down and turned to them before she marched off. "Oh, and since it doesn't seem fair that they know and you don't—I'm pregnant, Ron. But keep it to yourself for now because your sister and her husband seem to have trouble with that."

She glared pointedly at the couple before marching off to handle her husband.

Ron's mouth was hanging open with half-chewed food. Ginny noticed and made a face before she pressed his jaw closed.

"Bloody hell, mini Malfoys."

"Mini _Granger_ -Malfoys," Harry corrected. "Imagine what they'll be like."

The two men shared a knowing grin.

It was late once they made it home again. Hermione had finally caved halfway through the evening when she'd had to decline the glass of champagne from Mrs. Weasley to toast the couple. When Ron nodded enthusiastically, she admitted to the Weasley matriarch that she was pregnant. Thankfully, Pansy didn't seem to mind the news spreading across the room and shifting some of the excitement from the newly engaged couple. She'd actually been quite gracious about it and quickly congratulated them.

Draco followed his wife up the stairs to the bedroom. While he untied his tie and slipped off his suit jacket, he watched as she peeled out of her dress and rehung it in her closet. He watched as she shuffled tiredly over to her dresser and pulled out her most comfortable pajama pants and a t-shirt. He smirked to himself as he stepped out of his trousers while she climbed onto the bed and settled.

"Tired," he asked, knowing the answer already.

Hermione turned onto her side and watched as he levitated his clothes into the laundry before climbing into bed with her in nothing but his underwear. Sometime after the first year he'd stopped all pretenses of covering up and admitted that he'd always preferred to sleep in less as he got too overheated at night, especially with her sleeping so close. He'd only ever worn pajamas to bed for her.

Imagine his surprise when she agreed that she preferred him in only his underwear.

Draco lay on his side and doused the lights with a flick of his wand. He placed it on his nightstand and rolled over to face her.

"Exhausted," she finally answered with a weak smile. "I'm sorry. I know what I promised you."

Draco reached over and curled an arm around her waist before he pulled her close. He sighed when she settled close.

"We have our whole lives, Hermione."

He heard her sigh as she wrapped an arm around his middle and felt her lips press a kiss to his chin.

"Hmm, yes, forever."

And forever was something they could both agree to.


End file.
